


what you do to me when you hold his hand

by without_a_license



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Harry, Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Omegaverse, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Top Louis, knee kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/without_a_license/pseuds/without_a_license
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Harry,” she asks with a “let’s-be-wicked” smirk, “there’s all kinds of rumors about who might be courting you, and you’ve been seen in and out of *several* hotel rooms. Can you give us an exclusive? Is there a particular alpha who’s captured your heart?” She winks. Louis gags slightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you do to me when you hold his hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a larger a/b/o universe that I will likely never write. Basically, H presents as an omega during X-factor, Louis wants to mate him, management demands they both stay unmated for their contracts. Cue years of angst and really weird non-mating sex. This scene takes place when they're maybe 18 and 20 and is basically what my brain invents every time an interviewer touches Harry.

They’re all crammed together onto a too small couch, as always, while the pretty blonde interviewer sits way too close in a chair facing them. It’s honestly a really weird way to talk to someone, but Louis guesses it must video well, because they’re constantly doing it. This particular interviewer is wearing scent dampeners, but there’s something vaguely predatory in the way she makes eyes at Harry, and Louis is pissed off. 

“So, Harry,” she asks with a “let’s-be-wicked” smirk, “there’s all kinds of rumors about who might be courting you, and you’ve been seen in and out of *several* hotel rooms. Can you give us an exclusive? Is there a particular alpha who’s captured your heart?” She winks. Louis gags slightly. 

Harry is “um”ing and blushing, so Louis cups his cheek and digs his thumb into Harry’s dimple. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! Hazza is much too young to be mated! He’s hardly more than a babe! It’s a right scandal is what it is!” He makes his voice sound like he’s joking, but shoots dagger eyes at the interviewer.

“Do you agree, Harry? _Are_ you too young to settle down?”

Harry blushes again, his cheek growing warmer beneath Louis’ hand. Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s neck and scritches his fingers up under Harry’s hair. Harry’s eyes roll back and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it with a sigh, wet and pink and needy. He gives Lou his most desperate fuck-me eyes and Liam clears his throat pointedly.

“Harry?” asks the interviewer.

Louis hasn’t broken eye contact. 

“Yeah, um, whatever Louis says,” Harry mumbles. “’m too young.” 

The interviewer places her hand on Harry’s knee, groping him through his skinny jeans.

“But what about those rumors that you’re into older women, hmm? Any truth to that?”

Louis glares at her hand, then at her face, and then begins a long, dangerous, subvocal growl. It’s too low to be picked up by the cameras, but Niall starts to shift uncomfortably. The interviewer holds eye contact for one, two beats, then drops both her eyes and her hand from Harry’s knee. 

Louis breaks his growl abruptly and fondles Harry’s knee himself, smoothing his hand over it and brushing away imaginary dirt while giving the woman his bitchiest face.

Louis had forgotten about the question, but Harry squeaks out an answer. 

“We’re just friends, really. ‘s’all been blown out of proportion.” 

Liam quickly redirects the conversation toward their tour or their merchandise or something boring, and the rest of the interview passes without Harry or Louis having to say much at all. 

* * * * *

Back at the hotel, Louis immediately steps out of his shoes and empties his pockets onto the table. 

“Trousers and shoes off, Harold.”

“I guess I’m bunking with Liam and Zayn then, am I?” asks Niall.

Louis ignores him. It’s ridiculous for Niall to expect attention when other people are trying to have sex. Louis doesn’t care if he stays or goes, so long as he doesn’t interrupt. 

Niall leaves.

Harry stands at the foot of the bed in just his pants, rubbing his wrists nervously and smiling at Louis. He took off his shirt without being asked, but Louis generously decides to let that slide. He drops to his knees and begins using his mouth and hands to make love to Harry’s right knee.

He rubs the skin before applying his teeth to leave a dark bite mark that Harry’ll feel anytime he has to kneel. At the same time, he ghosts his fingertips up and down the back of Harry’s knee, making him goosebump and squirm.

“Lou, Lou,” Harry moans softly. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries holding his own hands, petting Louis’ head, stroking his own belly. Then he reaches to where his cock is straining against his pants and Louis spanks the meat of his thigh, hard and sudden.

“No, Harold. If I wanted you to touch yourself, I would have said something.”

“But Louis….” Harry whines, stretching and straining as Louis turns his leg and makes out with the back of Harry’s knee, simultaneously digging his fingernails into Harry’s ass, making him cry out and wiggle more desperately.

The next time Louis looks up, Harry’s got his hands tucked under his armpits and he’s leaking through his underwear in front and behind. The room is thick with the scent of overripe fruit and concentrated flowers, so overpowering that it would be unpleasant if not for Louis’ own musky, salty smell balancing it out. Suddenly he thinks, What if Harry’s sweetness rots away before he has a chance to mate him?

The thought is too painful, and he dedicates himself to scraping and biting at Harry’s wet knee, pulling on the tendon with his teeth and blowing cool air over the damp skin until Harry is dancing on the balls of his feet with desperation.

“Louis louis louis! I need it! I need you! Louis please please can I–or you–please whatever you want I just need it! Daddy!”

Louis slaps Harry’s ass with a loud crack! before climbing to his feet.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby boy. Pants off, bend over the bed.” 

Louis stretches out his sore legs while Harry gets into position, although he spanks him again when he tries to rest onto his forearms. 

“Hands only, baby, and stick your ass out for me, there’s a good lad.” 

Harry obeys, and Louis grabs a pillow from the bed to kneel on before settling on the floor again, biting the cheek he’d slapped before burying his face in Harry’s ass.

He always tastes so sweet here, in a way that’s almost stomach-churning to remember outside of the bedroom. He’s hot, too, his slick lighting up Louis’ skin like kissing outdoors in the winter. It’s almost unreal, how something so hot could be right here waiting for him, never going cold, never melting away.

He sucks gently at the delicate, puffy skin and listens for Harry’s stream of whimpers.

“Please Louis please need you you feel so good. Will you touch me? Please I’ll be such a good boy for you. Need to come want you want you inside please Louis I need it I need it.”

Louis strokes his hip soothingly and begins to penetrate Harry with the point of his tongue. His tongue feels so much more sensitive than his fingers here, able to trace the fine tremors as they travel around the ring of muscle, able to feel every fold in the skin, every place the texture changes from thin and delicate to strong and slick. 

Louis presses one finger all the way in below his tongue to hear Harry howl, and searches calmly for his prostate while still trying to poke in with the tip of his tongue. His tongue isn’t strong enough to actually open Harry without fingers, but once Haz relaxes it’ll slide in easily.

Finding Harry’s prostate, Louis begins to press against it in a steady, unrelenting rhythm of too-much-too-much-too-much. He’s wound Harry up so far that there’s only one way this can end, and anything else will be a letdown. 

“Please Louis please too much I need more please touch my cock please Louis.”

Louis withdraws his face to tell Harry the plan, because he’s generous like that. 

“No, baby. You don’t need anyone to touch your pretty little dick. You’re gonna come just like this, and then I’m gonna fuck your sweet thighs. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

This sets forth a fresh wave of whimpering and moaning from Harry, and Louis notes that he’s begun to cry real wet tears, a sure sign that he’s getting close. Louis presses in his index finger from the other hand and strokes the cleft between them with his tongue, licking up and hooking his tongue into Harry’s rim. At the same time, he uses his fingertips to press press press on Harry’s prostate, one then the other, so he never has a break from it. 

Harry’s muscles go tight, tensing so hard that he’ll surely cramp, and he begins to shake so hard that he almost dislodges Louis from his position. Louis’ not sure he’ll remain upright long enough to come.

Harry’s screaming now, crying out, and Louis viciously hope the whole hotel can hear how well he tortures his boy. He can feel that Harry’s almost there, so close, and he opens his mouth wide, stretches Harry with his fingers, and shoves his entire tongue in as deep as it will go. 

Then comes Louis’ favorite part. He rides the waves of Harry’s orgasm, moving with him as the shocks and aftershocks play out around his fingers and tongue, until finally, they stop. Louis pulls out and Harry collapses to the ground. 

Louis turns down the covers and manages to get Harry to flop on the bed, curling over on his side. He isn’t sure that it won’t be too much, but Harry groans, “Fuck me, Louis, please come on.” 

So Louis kicks off his own trousers and shirt and pushes his shorts down to slide between Harry’s slick thighs. He loves how round they are, the curves and angles of Harry’s body. It only takes a few minutes of thrusting to come with the memory of Harry’s orgasm to spur him forward.

Afterward, they lay together in a sweaty cuddle pile. 

“D’you want me to clean you up, babe?” Louis asks softly.

“Noooo,” Harry moans. “Don’t stop touching me. Need you.”

“I won’t,” Louis reassures him. He strips the pillowcase off one of the hotel pillows and does a lazy wipe of their thighs and bellies before pitching it over the side of the bed. They can shower in the morning.

He sighs and flips on the television.

“We can watch one show, and then I’ll have to get up and get you something to drink so you don’t dehydrate,” he tells Harry.

“Nooooo,” Harry whines again, burrowing into Louis’ side. “This is why we should have sex robots.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Not like, robots to have sex with. Like, robots that bring you juice and flannels after you have sex.”

“Hazza no, you’re mad.”

Harry headbutts him gently.

“You’re so mean. This is my best invention and I’m gonna make a million pounds and not give you any of it. We can call them Sex-bots. Everyone will want one.” 

Louis pats his sweaty hair and says, as gently as he can, “That is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Now shut up and watch Iron Chef.” 

Harry obeys.


End file.
